


Of Balconies and Ventolin

by pillarboxred



Series: A Happier You Than Yesterday [1]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Snogging, In Vino Veritas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillarboxred/pseuds/pillarboxred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s still stilted and weird, and he doesn’t like how Nick’s all quiet and sad all the time these days, especially around him, and if Louis has to kiss him to snap him out of it, then, well, he’s had worse ideas when he’s pissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Balconies and Ventolin

The room is spinning.

Or maybe it’s just him.

Perhaps, he thinks, he shouldn’t have listened to Harry when he’d said he needed help finishing off that bottle of wine, like there aren’t a _million_ other people packed into this dimly lit, stuffy, much too noisy room that smells a bit too much of sweat and cheap cologne and bad weed.

Louis needs air.

He stumbles over to a set of doors that some fuzzy part of his brain remembers leads out onto the balcony and throws them open wide.

Sweet spring air hits his face.

He steps through and pulls the doors shut behind him, reveling in how quickly the crowd noise fades, giving place to the dull buzz of street traffic two storeys below.

Peace, at last.

Well, almost.

Because there’s Nick Grimshaw, full-time Harry-friend and until recently part-time pain in Louis’s shapely arse, and he’s hunched over the railing, looking glum and pale and a little damp about the face.

“Too much to drink then Nicholas?” Louis says, tugging his mask down over his nose.

They’d been Harry’s idea too. _A fancy dress party_ , he’d said, all bright-eyed and excited. Louis had managed to talk him down from _that_ , because no uni student _he_ knew of had anything remotely good enough, outside of people with access to the drama society’s cupboard, and Louis loves Harry so much, but he isn’t going to jail for him for filching costumes.

But he had relented and said that they might could do masks, especially since Harry had given him the big Bambi eyes. Louis is many things, and chief among them is uselessness when it comes to Harry impersonating hapless Disney fauna.

He’s only human, although right now he’s more of a sweaty, probably smelly, human with flat hair in a ragged, looks-like-Party-Poison-if-you’re-shitfaced-and-squint-just-right mask that he’d thrown together earlier that afternoon.

And there’s Nicholas, still, slouching terribly and being all pensive and quiet with his mask dangling from his wrist, which, that’s not allowed.

“Are you alright?” Louis says, a bit softer this time, sidling up to him and pressing their arms together. The flannel of Nick’s shirt is warm against his bare arm, and it’s, well, _nice_ , so Louis presses in just a little bit harder.

Nick huffs out a laugh, a sad fake little thing, and that, that’s not allowed either.

Because Nick Grimshaw may be loud and is frequently annoying, but he should never be _sad_.

Louis can’t stand it when he’s sad, and Nick’s been sad a lot lately.

Not that Louis would ever admit it out loud or that he’d even noticed.

At least where other people might actually _hear_ him.

Harry’d never let him live it down, for one thing.

“C’mon Nicholas,” Louis says, knocking their elbows together. “Bad form to show up at a mask party and take off the mask halfway through and scarper outside, you know. And I know you know and you know I know you know, so you’d best tell me what it is that’s bothering you and we can, well, I dunno, actually, this all made a lot more sense before I opened me mouth.”

Nick laughs again, but it’s genuine this time.

Louis looks at him out of the corner of his eye, and honestly, no one should have a smile that wide and attractive.

He hears Nick trying to catch his breath, and Louis didn’t think he was that amusing, but he’ll take it.

“No, it’s just-” Nick says, fairly wheezing at this point and patting down his pockets like he’s looking for something, and _oh_ , Louis actually knows what that might be.

So he reaches, without thinking about it because he’s seen it done a million and one times, into the pockets of Nick’s ridiculous strategically ripped jeans, batting away Nick’s ridiculously long-fingered hands, and pulls out his inhaler and hands it over.

And really, Nick could be a little more appreciative instead of just gaping at him.

“What?” Louis says, just as astonished as Nick looks. He’s certainly not _blushing_ , thank you very much Memory of the Warmth of Nick’s Leg.

“You-” Nick begins, stopping to take a puff. “You. Helped. Me.”

“‘S not like I can’t,” Louis says, a bit defiant.

“But you don’t,” Nick returns, moving the inhaler away from his ridiculously pretty mouth and pocketing it. Everything about Nick, Louis is rapidly finding out, is ridiculous. From his hair, which _no_ , Louis hasn’t spent endless hours thinking about running his fingers through, to his stupid, stupidly pink, mouth that _never shuts up_ , well, usually anyway and Louis would like that back please and thank you, to that absurd SOAK record he’s always going on about, which, _it’s a song about a fish, Nicholas, GOD_.

“Can if I want to,” Louis says, pettishly, as he’s grabbing Nick’s artfully half-buttoned shirt and pulling him in close. “Can help you with lots of things.”

“But you _don’t_ ,” Nick says again, even as he’s allowing himself to be pulled down.

“I. Want. To.” Louis says, making it as clear as he can through this haze of Cab Sauv and second-hand smoke that’s set up in his head.

Truth is, he means it.

Because it isn’t just tonight.

It’s been weeks of nights, nights not terribly unlike this one, only without the masks.

Ever since that one particular night where Louis seems to remember falling asleep on Nick’s shoulder in a cab on the way home from... _somewhere_ and waking up to everything being all stilted and weird.

It’s still stilted and weird, and he doesn’t like how Nick’s all quiet and sad all the time these days, especially around him, and if Louis has to kiss him to snap him out of it, then, well, he’s had worse ideas when he’s pissed.

Although, judging by the way Nick’s kissing him back, crowding him into the railing and pushing his mask clear off his face, it might just be the best idea he’s ever had.

Because Nick kisses _wonderfully_ , and Louis probably shouldn’t be thinking of Coldplay records at a time like this, but  _goddamn_ does Nick know what he’s doing with his lips, and it really is like a rush of blood to the head, leaving Louis giddy and breathless with it.

“Yours,” he manages to croak out when they come up for air.

“What?” Nick returns, his eyes fluttering open, and really, they’re so very pretty, and his eyelashes are crazy long, and his lips have got so red and so, so _shiny_.

“Let’s go to yours,” Louis says, moving away and pulling at Nick’s hand. “Harry’s bound to come out looking for us, and if he finds us, it’s less snogging and more explaining, and you don’t want that, now do you?”

“Well, no but,” Nick says, but he’s not moving, just letting Louis tug uselessly at his hand, and why isn’t he moving?

“Why aren’t you moving?” Louis asks him, trying not to come off all pouty about it and failing miserably. ”We can kiss more if you'll just _come along_ , and you should come along because that’s like the first time you've smiled in a month, so don't act like you didn't like it."

"I did like it," Nick says, although it's mostly to Louis's hand. “I just-"

He clears his throat and tries again.

“It’s just I thought-"

"Out with it Nicholas."

"I thought you didn't like me," Nick finishes, and...

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Louis says, taken aback, which, yeah, he knows he can be a sarcastic little shit, but he thought Nick knew better than to take him seriously.

Nick looks at him then, and it'd be comical how fast his head snaps up, except Louis has a feeling that this is very quickly becoming a very serious conversation.

“It’s nothing, it's...stupid," Nick says, letting go of his hand and giving Louis a smile that he can see straight through. ”Let's just go back inside and forget about it, alright?”

He’s pushing past Louis to get to the door, and Fuck. That.  

Louis grabs his hand and spins him back around.

"Don't want to forget about it," he says. "Tell me why you don't think I like you."

Nick's still looking down at Louis’s hand.

“And look at me when you're saying it."

And Nick does look at him then, but he's got that sad look on his face again, and Louis decides that he really, _really_ hates that look.

”It’s just the things you say sometimes, you know?" Nick says, and, okay, Louis would be lying if he said he wasn't expecting that.

“And Harry says to just ignore it, that that’s just how you are, but it gets to a point where you start wondering if maybe it’s true. And then there was that night..."

 _Shit_.

Louis has a feeling he knows exactly which night he’s talking about.

“I thought we'd had a good night, you and I. You even let me put you to bed, demanded that I put you to bed, and you let me kiss you and everything, but the next day you were back to calling me names and making fun of my hair and the music I listen to, like the night before had never happened, and I decided that maybe you just really honestly didn't like me or you just put up with me for Harry’s sake, so I just...quit trying."

Fuck.

Louis is entirely too sober all of a sudden.

Louis lets go of Nick’s hand and hangs his head, picking at his fingernails.

He is such a shit, a real, genuine shit.

“I’m sorry," he says, quietly and with a hint of a squeak in his voice, copying Nick and speaking mostly to his hands.

He risks a little glance, landing somewhere around the untucked tails of Nick’s shirt.

“I don’t remember kissing you that night," he says, still fiddling with his hands. "And that's a damn shame really because you’re brilliant at it."

"Louis..."

Louis can’t look at him yet, doesn’t want to see another sad look, or worse, an an angry one. Not that Nick isn’t allowed to be angry with him, it's just, Louis doesn’t _want_ Nick to be angry with him.

Never that.

“I’m just really, really shit with people sometimes," he says, lifting his gaze a bit higher to somewhere in the vicinity of Nick’s navel. "Especially the ones I really like. It’s like the better they know me, the worse I am. Like they’re gonna find out that there’s not much to me after a while, that I’m not good enough or that I’m boring and stuff, and, I dunno, leave. So I tend to push them away before they can.”

Perhaps Louis isn’t as sober as he’d thought he was after all.

“You’re not like that with Harry.”

“Harry doesn’t know everything, and anyway he’s part koala.”

He hears Nick huff out a laugh.

“He is,” Nick says, and the pattern on his shirt gets a little closer and a little clearer as he takes a step forward.

“So why tell me?”

Louis shrugs.

“Thought you should know.”

“Oh.”

Nick takes another step forward. They were close enough before, but now their toes are touching.

“And you were sad a lot,” Louis says, pressing on further like he’s picking at a bruise. “And I don’t like it when you’re sad. You’re supposed to be all loud and annoying and paying attention to me, but you haven’t been lately, and I didn’t know why, and I...missed it. Missed you.”

And then he finally looks up at Nick, bracing himself for the worst.

Except...

Nick doesn’t look angry at all. Or sad.

Just a bit...mystified until his face settles into something softer and almost warm.

Louis would even go so far as to call it fond.

“I am one of a kind," Nick says, smiling down at him.

“You are that," Louis agrees, grinning stupidly back up at him.

Nick’s gaze drops to Louis’s mouth before meeting his eyes again, and he places his hands ever so lightly on Louis’s waist. Louis’s breath hitches at that, because all he’s got on up top is a t-shirt, and Nick’s fingers feel almost like fire through the thin cotton.

And then Nick’s leaning in and kissing _him_ , soft and slow with none of the urgency of earlier, and it’s, well…

It’s _lovely_.

And Louis melts into it, not even ashamed that he whimpers a little, because it feels so _good_.

Especially now that Nick’s properly got his arms around him, holding him so close, and Louis feels so, so _warm_.

“ _Nicholas_ ,” he breathes out when they resurface, resting his forehead against Nick’s and speaking mostly to his lips.

Nick just hums in response, and there’s a terrible split second when he’s pulling away, but it turns out it’s only so he can adjust his stance, tighten his grip on Louis’s waist, and rest his chin on top of Louis’s head, and _oh_.

Oh, that is so _nice_.

He thinks he could stay forever like that.

“Lou,” Nick says, jostling Louis’s head a bit with the movement of his jaw, and that, that is definitely the very last of the alcohol leaving and a hangover settling in in its place.

He’s pretty sure he can detect the beginnings of a very unforgiving headache.

“Take me home,” Louis says, mumbling it into Nick’s shirtfront. “Tell Liam or somebody that we’re going, but just... take me home.”

He feels Nick stiffen a bit at that, and no.

“Liam’s the sensible one; he’ll remember,” Louis says in a rush. “In case I don’t, and I don’t think I’ll forget this time, but just in case…”

“Oh Lou it’s alright…” Nick begins, and _no_.

Louis isn’t fucking this up again.

“Tell Liam,” he insists, breaking away and blindly grabbing at Nick’s hands, finally catching on to...one of them and gripping it tightly. “Tell Liam, and then we’ll go.”

“Okay,” Nick says, mercifully softly, and he squeezes Louis’s hand back before guiding them both over to the door that’ll take them back to whatever kind of party is left.

And then they’re through the door, and it’s not so bad as Louis had thought, most of the noise from before having tapered off into the low hum of private conversation. He can’t find Harry, but he spots Liam, tucked into a corner and looking decidedly sober and uncomfortable, and so he tugs Nick over in that direction.

“ _Leeyum_ ,” he says, drawling over the syllables as he’s barrelling into Liam’s space. “This is Nicholas, that you know, and we are leaving. Together. So remember that. For tomorrow.”

“Okay?” Liam says, eyebrows furrowing, but Louis thinks he’s got his point across, so he leaves without further ado, dragging Nick by the hand over to the main entrance, in full sight of all and sundry, and Louis is so pleased to find out that he doesn’t even _care_.

“I was supposed to tell him,” Nick says, as they’re closing the door behind them.

Louis turns full stop in the corridor, but he doesn’t let go of Nick’s hand.

“Thought it was better if I did,” he says, giving Nick a smile, one of his softer ones that no one else ever really sees, and leading him towards the lifts.


End file.
